


Dear The Man I Loved

by elwaugh



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: 23rd Timeline (The Magicians), Angst, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwaugh/pseuds/elwaugh
Summary: Let's start from the beginning, why don't we? When is "the beginning"? The first time you crossed the lawn, the first time we met? Or the first time we fucked? The first time we kissed (and meant it)? The first time I truly loved and was loved?
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Dear The Man I Loved

**Author's Note:**

> I took the idea from Eliot 40 writing that letter to Q before he died and thought that could be interesting for Eliot 23 (seeing as his Quentin was The Beast and he died trying to stop him). In my head the two of them were together in 23 before Quentin became The Beast.

~~Dear Q~~  


~~Dear Quentin~~

Dear the ~~boy~~ man I love **d** ,

Where do I start? The beginning, logically, but I was never one for logic. Neither were you. ~~You wanted to rule Fillory one day. And rule it you did.~~

~~Why does getting better hurt so bad?~~

Let's start from the beginning, why don't we? When is "the beginning"? The first time you crossed the lawn, the first time we met? Or the first time we fucked? The first time we kissed (and meant it)? The first time I truly loved and was loved?

There's so many things I wish I could've said. So many I can't find a place to start.

I think I'll start with your hair. That was the first thing I noticed about you. It was cute and it was messy and it was you. I suppose long hair on men isn't uncommon but for a nerd like you, it showed you weren't afraid to be yourself. And I loved it. It started this wildfire obsession in me. I wanted you so fucking badly. Not even just sexually. I just wanted **you**. To be your friend, to be near you, to look at you, to touch you, to love you. You had this look in your eyes that always cried, "Oh, god. Will somebody please love me?" And I wanted to. And I did. Nobody ever really loved me and no one ever really loved you ~~and so we really loved each other~~ and I think we both just wanted to give each other that love we had never felt.

And for a while, it was perfect. We were perfect. Margo always told me, "I don't know if I've ever met two people more made to love each other." And I agreed. And so did you. And oh god, did we love each other.

(This letter isn't going how I originally intended, but I think I'll keep going this way. At least until I run out of room.)

(I don't know why I'm writing side notes. It's not like you'll ever actually read this.)

I don't know why I'm avoiding the Eliot in the room (I think I'm pretty clever for that one but Margo disagrees). It's not like it physically hurts to talk about how you hurt me. How you slowly turned into this man I didn't recognize until I had a stranger in my bed. A stranger who happened to look like just you, and talk like you, and fuck mostly the same as you. But he didn't love the same. I don't think he loved anything at all. Not even Fillory. That wasn't love. ~~That was obsession.~~ I'm sure that the Greek have a word for it and you probably would've known it. But I have a word for it too. A few actually. And they go a little something like "fuck you, Quentin Coldwater."

God, I fucking hate you. And I love you. And I never want to see you again and I want to ~~hold you~~ kiss every inch of you. Most importantly, I just want to talk to you again. I don't care if the words I hear are fuck you or fuck me. I love you or I hate you. You could tell me you never want to see my face again and I'd play those words on repeat in my head as I fuck myself. As long as they came from you.

I'm not sure what the point of this letter is anymore, but I should start to wrap it up. I've cried at least four times already, no need to make it five.

I've been listening to "Feel Something" by Jaymes Young a lot lately. "You could be the one to make me feel something." And you are. You were? Are.

I can't wait until the day I can think back on everything with a ~~bittersweet~~ melancholic smile.

~~Until then, Q,~~

~~♡ Eliot~~

But until then I'll keep crying every night and drinking all day and maybe write some more stupid letters.

~~I love you,~~

Goodbye. For now and forever,

Eliot Waugh

**Author's Note:**

> There was originally a PS that said "I think you'd enjoy Frank Ocean" but I decided not to include it in this published final draft lmao  
> My tumblr is @hansonmargo


End file.
